


The Town in the Desert

by Fireauricle



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom
Genre: But don't expect seriousness, Did I do it anyway? Yes., Eldritch Fluff, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Hannibal is Cecil, It's gonna be fun you should try it., M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, There are others I'll tag them as I figure out, Was this needed? Probably not., Welcome to Night Vale!AU, Will is Carlos, but like, this is so indulgent guys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:34:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29108628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fireauricle/pseuds/Fireauricle
Summary: The transcripts of what happens in the small desert town of Night Vale, as told by the mostly eldritch, probably cannibalistic radio host, Hannibal Lecter.A.K.A The WTNV!AU no one asked for.
Relationships: Alana Bloom/Margot Verger, Bella Crawford/Jack Crawford, Francis Dolarhyde/Reba McClane, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	1. Pilot

**Author's Note:**

> This is meant to be pure fun. There will be no plots. Just weird stuff happening and Hannibal being a simp. There will be desert bluffs though so we may have another Madancy pairing in the future.
> 
> Please be an adult about it. If you don't like it, at any point you can and should click out.

_A friendly desert community, where the sun is hot, the moon is beautiful, and mysterious lights pass overhead while we all pretend to sleep._

**_Welcome to Night Vale_ **

* * *

“Hello listeners. To begin, I have been asked to read this brief notice. The City Council announces the opening of a new dog park at the corner of Earl and Summerset, near the Ralphs. They would like to remind everyone that dogs are _not_ allowed in the dog park. _People_ are not allowed in the dog park. It is possible you will see hooded figures in the dog park. _Do not_ approach them _. Do not_ approach the dog park. The fence is electrified and highly dangerous. Try not to look at the dog park and especially do not look for any period of time at the hooded figures. The dog park will not harm you."

"And now, the news.

Old Woman Reba, out near the car lot, says the Angels revealed themselves to her. Said they were ten feet tall, radiant, one of them was black. She said they helped her with various household chores. One of them changed a light bulb for her, the porch light. She’s offering to sell the old light bulb, which has been touched by an angel. If you’re interested, contact Old Woman Reba. She’s out near the car lot.”

“A new man came in to town today. Who is he? What does he want from us? _Why_ his perfect and beautiful haircut? _Why_ his perfect and beautiful coat? _Why_ his, frankly concerning, amount of dogs? He says he is a scientist.” _**Humour in the voice**. _“Well, we have all been scientists at one point or another in our lives. But why now? Why here? And just what does he plan to do with all those beakers and humming electrical instruments in that lab he’s renting, the one next to Big G's Pizza. No one does a slice like Big G. _No one_.”

* * *

“Just a reminder to all the parents out there. Let’s talk about safety when taking your children out to play in the scrub lands and the sand wastes. You need to give them plenty of water, make sure there’s a shade tree in the area, and keep an eye on the helicopter colors. Are the unmarked helicopters circling the area black? Probably World Government, not a good area for play that day. Are they blue? That’s the Sheriff’s Secret Police, they’ll keep a good eye on your kids, and hardly ever take one. Are they painted with complex murals depicting birds of prey diving? No one knows what those helicopters are, or what they want. Do not play in the area. Return to your home and lock the doors until a Sheriff’s Secret Policeman leaves a carnation on your porch to indicate that the danger has passed. Cover your ears to blot out the screams. Also, remember: Gatorade is basically soda, so give your kids plain old water and maybe some orange slices when they play.”

* * *

“A commercial airliner flying through local airspace disappeared today, only to reappear in the Night Vale Elementary gymnasium during basketball practice, disrupting practice quite badly. The jet roared through the small gym for only a fraction of a second, and before it could strike any players or structure, it vanished again, this time apparently for good. There is no word yet on if or how this will affect the Night Vale Mountain Lion’s game schedule, and also if this could perhaps be the work of their bitter rivals, the Desert Bluffs Cacti. Desert Bluffs is always trying to show us up through fancier uniforms, better pre-game snacks, and quite possibly by transporting a commercial jet into our gymnasium, delaying practice for several minutes at least. For shame, Desert Bluffs. For shame.”

* * *

“That new scientist, we now know he’s named Will, called a town meeting. He has beautiful curly hair like a Botticelli angel and teeth like a military cemetery. His hair is perfect, and we all hate and despair and love that perfect hair in equal measure. Old Woman Reba brought corn muffins, which were decent but lacked salt. She said the angels had taken her salt for a Godly Mission and she hadn’t yet gotten around to buying more. Will told us that we are, by far, the most scientifically interesting community in the US, and he had come to study just what is going on around here. He shyly smiled, and everything about him was perfect, and I fell in love _instantly_. Government agents from a vague yet menacing agency were in the back, watching.” _**Concern.** _“I fear for William. I fear for Night Vale. I fear for anyone caught between what they know and what they don’t yet know that they don’t know.”

* * *

“We received a press release this morning. The Night Vale Business Association is proud to announce the opening of the brand new Night Vale Harbor and Waterfront Recreation Area. I have been to these facilities myself recently on their invitation, and I can tell you that it is absolutely top of the line and beautiful. Sturdy docking areas made from eco-friendly post-consumer material. A boardwalk for pedestrians, and plenty of stands ready for local food vendors and merchants to turn into a bustling public marketplace. Now, there is some concern about the fact that, given we are in the middle of a desert, there is no actual water at the waterfront. And that is a definite drawback, I agree. For instance, the boardwalk is currently overlooking sagebrush and rocks. The Business Association did not provide any specific remedies for this problem, but they assured me that the new harbor would be a big boost to Night Vale none the less. Maybe wait until a flash flood and head down there for the full waterfront experience.”

“The local chapter of the NRA is selling bumper stickers as part of their fundraising week. They sent the station one to get some publicity, and we’re here to serve the community, so I’m happy to let you all know about it. The stickers are made from good, sturdy vinyl, and they read: “Guns don't kill people. It's impossible to be killed by a gun. We are all invincible to bullets and it's a miracle.” Stand outside of your front door and shout “NRA” to order one.

* * *

“William and his team of scientists warn that one of the houses in the new development of Desert Creek, out back of the elementary school, d _oesn’t actually exist_.” _**Skepticism.** _“It seems like it exists,” explained Will and his perfect hair. “Like it’s just right there when you look at it, and it’s between two other identical houses so it would make more sense for it to be there than not” But, he says, they have done experiments and the house is definitely not there. At news time, the scientists are standing in a group on the sidewalk in front of the nonexistent house, daring each other to go knock on the door.”

“A great howling was heard from the Night Vale post office yesterday. Postal workers claim no knowledge, although passersby described the sound as being a little like “a human soul being destroyed through Black Magic.” The Indian Tracker - now, I don’t know if you’ve seen this guy around. He’s the one that appears to be of, maybe, Slavic origin? Yet wears an Indian headdress out of some racist cartoon, and claims to be able to read tracks on asphalt. He appeared at the scene, and swore that he would discover the truth. No one responded because it’s really hard to take him seriously in that headdress of his.”

* * *

“Lights, seen in the sky above the Arby’s. Not the glowing sign of Arby’s. Something higher and beyond that. We know the difference. We’ve caught on to their game. We understand the lights above Arby’s game. Invaders from another world. Ladies and gentlemen the future is here. And it’s about a hundred feet above the Arby’s.”

“William and his scientists at the monitoring station near Route 800 say their seismic monitors have been indicating wild seismic shifts; meaning to say that the ground should be going up and down all over the place. I don’t know about you, my dear listeners, but the ground has been as still as the crust of a tiny globe rocketing through an endless cold void could be. William says that they’ve double checked the monitors, and they are in perfect working order. To put it plainly, there appears to be catastrophic earthquakes happening right here in Night Vale that absolutely no one can feel.”

“Well, submit an insurance claim anyway. See what you can get, right?”

“Now, it is time for the traffic, listeners. Police are issuing warnings about ghost cars out on the highways, those cars only visible in the distance, reaching unimaginable speeds, leaving destinations unknown for destinations more unknown. They would like to remind you that you should not set your speed by these apparitions, and doing so will not be considered following the flow of traffic. However, they do say that it’s probably safe to match speed with the mysterious lights in the sky, as whatever entities or organizations responsible appear to be cautious and reasonable drivers.”

“And now, the weather.”

**[Beethoven’s 9 th Symphony, but backwards.]**

“Welcome back, listeners.”

“The sun didn’t set at the correct time today, William and his team of scientists report. They are quite certain about it, they checked multiple clocks, and the sun definitely set ten minutes later than it was supposed to. I asked them if they had any explanations, but they did not offer anything concrete. Mostly, they sat in a circle around a desk clock, staring at it, murmuring and cooing. Still, we must be grateful to have the sun at all. It’s easy to forget in this hot, hot, hot desert climate, but things would actually be slightly harder for us without the sun. The next time the sun rises, whatever time that turns out to be, take a moment to feel grateful for all the warmth and light and, even, yes, extreme heat that our desert community is gifted with.”

* * *

“The City Council would like to remind you about the tiered heavens, and the hierarchy of angels. The reminder is that you should not know anything about this.”

“The structure of heaven and the angelic organizational chart are privileged information, known only to City Council members on a need to know basis. Please to do not speak to or acknowledge any angels that you may come across while shopping at the Ralphs or at the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex. They only tell lies, and do not exist. Report all angels sightings to the City Council for treatment.”

“And now a brief public service announcement.”

“Alligators. Can they kill your children? Yes.

Along those lines, to get personal for a moment, I think the best way to die would be swallowed by a giant snake. Going feet first and whole into a slimy maw would give your life perfect symmetry.”

* * *

“Speaking of the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex, its owner, Brian Zeller, reports that he has found the entrance to a vast, underground city in the pin retrieval area of lane 5. He said he has not yet ventured into it, merely peered down at its strange spires and broad avenues. He also reports voices of a distant crowd in the depths of that subterranean metropolis. Apparently the entrance was discovered when a bowling ball accidentally rolled into it, clattering down to the city below with sounds that echoed for miles across the impossibly huge cavern. So, you know, whatever population that city has, they know about us now and we might be hearing from them very soon.”

“William, perfect and beautiful, came into our studios during the break earlier but declined to stay for an interview. He had some sort of blinking box in his hand covered with wires and tubes. Said he was testing the place for materials. I don’t know what materials he meant, but that box sure whistled and beeped a lot. When he put it close to the microphone, it sounded like, well, like a bunch of baby birds had just woken up. Really went crazy. Will looked nervous. I’ve never seen that kind of look on someone with such long eyelashes. He left in a hurry. Told us to evacuate the building, but then, who would be here to talk sweetly to all of you out there. Settling in to be another clear and pretty evening here in Night Vale.”

“I hope all of you out there have someone to sleep through it with, or at least good memories of when you did.”

“Good night, Night Vale. Good night.”


	2. Glow Cloud

_The desert seems vast, even endless, and yet scientists tell us that somewhere, even now, there is snow._

_**Welcome to Night Vale.**_

* * *

“The Night Vale Tourism Board’s “Visitable Night Vale” campaign has kicked off with posters encouraging folks to take their family on a scenery filled jaunt through the trails of Radon Canyon. Their slogan: “The view is literally breathtaking.” Posters will be placed at police stations and frozen yogurt shops in nearby towns, along with promotional giveaways of plastic sheeting and rebreathers.”

“And now, the news.

Have any of our listeners seen the glowing cloud that has been moving in from the west? Well, Peter Bernadorne, you know, the farmer? He saw it over the Western Ridge this morning, said he would have thought it was the setting sun if it wasn’t for the time of day. Apparently the cloud glows in a variety of colors, perhaps changing from observer to observer, although all report a low whistling when it draws near. One death has already been attributed to the glow cloud.”

“But listen, it’s probably nothing. If we had to shut down the town for every mysterious event that at least one death could be attributed to, we’d never have time to do anything, right? That’s what the Sheriff’s Secret Police are saying, and I agree, although I would not go so far as to endorse their suggestion to “run directly at the cloud, shrieking and waving your arms, just to see what it does.”

* * *

The Apache Tracker, and I remind you that this is that white guy who wears the huge and cartoonishly inaccurate Indian headdress, has announced that he has found some disturbing evidence concerning the recent incident at the Night Vale Post Office, which has been sealed by the City Council since the great screaming that was heard from it a few weeks ago. He said that using ancient Indian magicks, he slipped through Council security into the Post Office and observed that all the letters and packages had been thrown about as in a whirlwind, that there was the heavy stench of scorched flesh, and that words written in blood on the wall said “More to come…and soon.” Can you believe this guy said he used “Indian Magicks”? How paltry and execrable.”

* * *

“Here is something odd: There is a cat hovering in the men’s bathroom at the radio station here. It seems perfectly happy and healthy, but it’s floating about four feet off the ground next to the sink. Doesn’t seem to be able to move from its current hovering spot. If you pet him, he purrs, and he’ll rub on your body like a normal cat if you get close enough. Fortunately, because he’s right by the sink, it was pretty easy to leave some water and food where he could get it, and it’s nice to have a station pet. Wish it wasn’t trapped in a hovering prison in the men’s bathroom, but listen, no pet is perfect. It becomes perfect when you learn to accept it for what it is.”

* * *

“And now, a message from our sponsors:

**I took a walk on the cool sand dunes, brittle grass overgrown, and above me, in the night sky, above me, I saw. Bitter taste of unripe peaches and a smell I could not place, nor could I escape. I remembered other times that I could not escape. I remembered other smells. The moon slunk like a wounded animal. The world spun like it had lost control. Concentrate only on breathing and let go of ideas you had about nutrition and alarm clocks. I took a walk on the cool sand dunes, brittle grass overgrown, and above me, in the night sky, above me, I saw.**

This message was brought to you by Coca-Cola.”

* * *

“The City Council, in cooperation with government agents from a Vague, Yet Menacing, Agency, is asking all citizens to stop by the Night Vale Elementary School gymnasium tonight at 7 for a brief questionnaire about mysterious sights that definitely no one saw and strange thoughts that in no way occurred to anyone, because all of us are normal, and to be otherwise would make us outcasts from our own community. Remember: If you see something, say nothing, and drink to forget.”

“The Boy Scouts of Night Vale have announced some slight changes to their hierarchy, which will now be the following: Cub Scout, Boy Scout, Eagle Scout, Blood Pact Scout, Weird Scout, Dreadnought Scout, Dark Scout, Fear Scout, and, finally, Eternal Scout. As always, sign-up is automatic and random, so please keep an eye out for the scarlet envelope that will let you know your son has been chosen for the process.”

* * *

“This is probably nothing, listeners, but Peter Bernadorne, you know, the farmer? He reports that the Glow Cloud is directly over old town Night Vale, and appears to be raining small creatures upon the earth. Armadillos, lizards, a few crows. That kind of thing. Fortunately, the animals appear to be dead already, so the Night Vale Animal Control department has said that it should be a snap to clean those up. They just have to be tossed on to the Eternal Animal Pyre in Mission Grove Park, so if that’s the worst the Glow Cloud has for us, I’d say go ahead and do your daily errands, just bring along a good, strong umbrella, capable of handling falling animals of up to, let’s say, 10 pounds.”

“More on the Glow Cloud as it continues to crawl across our sky. And hey, here’s a tip: Take your kid out and use the cloud’s constantly-mutating hue to teach him or her the names of colors. It’s fun, and it shows them the real life applications of learning.”

* * *

“Alert: The Sheriff’s Secret Police are searching for a fugitive named Francis Dolarhyde, who escaped custody last night following a 9pm arrest. Dolarhyde is described as a five-headed dragon, approximately 18 feet tall, with mostly brown eyes, and weighing about 36-hundred pounds. He is suspected of insurance fraud.”

“Dolarhyde was pulled over for speeding last night, and the Secret Police became suspicious when he allegedly gave the officers a fake driver license for a 5-foot-8 man named Paul Crane. After discerning that Paul Crane was actually a 5-headed dragon from somewhere other than our little world, the Secret Police searched Dolarhyde's vehicle.”

“Representatives from local Civil Rights organizations have protested that officers had no legal grounds to search the vehicle, but they ceded the point when reminded by Secret Police officials that our backwards court system will uphold any old authoritarian rule made up on the fly by unsupervised gun-carrying thugs of a shadow government.”

“The secret police say Dolarhyde escaped custody by breathing fire from his purple head. He was last seen flying and shrieking over Red Mesa. Secret police are asking for tips leading to the arrest of Francis Dolarhyde. They remind you that, if seen, he should not be approached, as he is _literally_ a five-headed dragon. Contact the Sheriff’s Secret Police if you have any information. Ask for Officer Franklyn. Helpful tipsters will earn one stamp on their Alert Citizen Card. Collect 5 stamps and you get Stop Sign Immunity for one year!”

* * *

“And now, a look at the community calendar.

Saturday, the public library will be unknowable. Citizens will forget the existence of the library from 6am Saturday morning until 11pm that night. The library will be under a sort of renovation. It is not important what _kind_ of renovation.

Sunday is Dot Day. Remember: Red Dots on what you love. Blue Dots on what you don’t. Mixing those up can cause permanent consequences.

Monday, Tobias Budge is offering bluegrass lessons in the back of Budge’s Music Shoppe. Of course, the Shoppe burned down years ago, and Tobias skipped town immediately after with his insurance money, but he sent word that you should bring your instrument to the crumbled, ashy shell of where his shop once was, and pretend that he is there in the darkness, teaching you. The price is $50 per lesson, payable in advance.

Tuesday afternoon, join the Night Vale PTA for a bake sale to support Citizens for a Blood Space War. Proceeds will go to support neutron bomb development and deployment to our outer solar system allies.

Wednesday has been canceled due to a scheduling error.

And on Thursday is a free concert….. and that is all it says here.”

* * *

“New call in from Peter Bernadorne, you know, the farmer? Seems the Glow Cloud has doubled in size, enveloping all of Night Vale in its weird light and humming song. Little League administration has announced that they will be going ahead with the game, although there will be an awning built over the field due to the increase in size of the animal corpses being dropped. I’ve had multiple reports that a lion, like the kind you would see on the sun-baked plains of Africa, or a urine stained enclosure at a local zoo, fell on top of the White Sand Ice Cream Shoppe. The Shoppe is offering a free dipped cone to anyone who can figure out how to get the thing off.”

“The Sheriff’s Secret Police have apparently taken to shouting questions at the Glow Cloud, trying to ascertain what exactly it wants. So far the Glow Cloud has not answered.”

_Voice deepening._ **“The Glow Cloud does not need to converse with us. It does not feel as we tiny humans feel. It has no need for thoughts or feelings or love. The Glow Cloud simply is. All hail the mighty Glow Cloud. All hail.**

**And now, slaves of the Cloud, the weather.”**

**[“The Bus is Late” by Satellite High]**

“Apologies, listeners. Not sure what happened in that earlier section of the broadcast. As in, I actually don’t remember what happened. I tried to play back the tapes but they all are blank and smell faintly of vanilla. The Glow Cloud, meanwhile, has moved on. It is now just a glowing spot in the distance, humming east to destinations unknown. We may never fully understand, or understand _at all_ , what it was and why it dumped a lot of dead animals on our community. But, and I’m going to get a little personal here, that’s the essence of life, isn’t it?”

“Sometimes you go through things that seem huge at the time, like a mysterious Glowing Cloud devouring your entire community. While they are happening, they feel like the only thing that matters, and you can hardly imagine that there’s a world out there that might have anything else going on. And then the Glow Cloud moves on, and you move on, and the event is behind you. And you may find, as time passes, that you remember it less and less. Or absolutely not at all, in _my_ case. And you are left with nothing but a powerful wonder at the fleeting nature of even the most important moments in life, and the faint but pretty smell of vanilla.”

“Finally dear listeners, here is a list of things:

  * Emotions you don’t understand upon viewing a sunset.



  * Lost pets, found.



  * Lost pets, unfound.



  * A secret lost pet city on the moon.



  * Trees that see.



  * Restaurants that hear.



  * A void that thinks.



  * A face, half-seen, just before falling asleep.



  * Trembling hands reaching for desperately needed items.



  * Sandwiches



  * Silence when there should be noise.



  * Noise when there should be silence.



  * Nothing, when you want something.



  * Something, when you thought there was nothing.



  * Clear plastic binder sheets.



  * Scented dryer sheets.



  * Rain coming down in sheets.



  * Night.



  * Rest.



  * Sleep.



  * End.



“Good night, Night Vale. Good night.”

**Author's Note:**

> To communicate with the author, scream in your nearest bloodstone circle or find me at https://dogloverwill.tumblr.com/


End file.
